My COVID Anniversary Catharsis

One year ago today, on March 12th, 2020, I developed COVID symptoms. Waking up with a fever and chills in the middle of the night, I naively thought it would not be a big deal. You see, this was when we believed that if you were under 65 and had no underlying health conditions, then you would be sick for a bit with symptoms like a bad cold and would recover no problem.  

I had gone on a ski trip the weekend before with girlfriends. Only Italy and China were in lockdown. Travel bans did not exist within the country, and kids still happily went to school. We were told that this was not an airborne disease, so masking was not even a consideration. To keep safe, we were instructed, wash your hands, sanitize, and don't touch your face.  

We didn't know anything.

So in my own arrogance, I thought, "why not?" Armed with disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizer, I went to Vail on March 6th — a COVID hot spot but no one knew it then. This vital piece of information would emerge a week or two later. 

After developing symptoms, I woke up on the next day determined to get a flu test (and, if necessary, a COVID test). This was before testing sites were commonplace. I called the only place I knew of that possibly tested, the local district health center. After answering the screening questions, I was told I did not qualify and likely did not have it because I had not traveled internationally — specifically to Italy or China. HA!  

Still praying that I had the flu like my next-door neighbor, I took a rapid flu test. Negative. Dejected and worried, I headed home. I segregated myself from the rest of my family. 

On Sunday, March 15th, my 11-year old woke up with a fever and general malaise. I remember him looking at me with fear in his eyes. Blissfully unaware that kids could become seriously ill (albeit now still rarely), I assured him that he would be fine. 

On Monday, March 16th, my 8-year old woke up with the same symptoms that his brother had. My husband woke up with a fever, dizziness, and crazy exhaustion. On the plus side, by this time, my 11-year old felt completely fine.  

That same day, a person I had had face-to-face contact with a few days prior (we had elbow-bumped instead of shaking hands — remember that?) told me about a testing location that had just opened up. It was at a hospital a 40-minute drive away. I secured an appointment the next day. 

On Tuesday, March 17th, my 8-year old woke up feeling fine — precisely the same trajectory as his older brother. My husband, however, felt worse. And I still felt horrible. I drove to my test. The world was now locked down. I saw almost no cars on the road and it was mid-morning. The testers were dressed in full hazmat gear; they were kind and patient. The test was horrific. I was expecting a flu-type test. My brain felt like it had been gouged with an ice pick. I drove home. 

Thursday, March 18th, my doctor called me. The test was positive. My husband and I were so sick that our 15-year old was cooking meals and taking care of his two younger and, thankfully, recovered brothers.

Friday, March 20th, I felt worse. The coughing had not stopped. My chest was tight — like a belt was cinching around it. I called my doctor who truly was my lifeline through this. He informed me that hospitals were seeing people becoming significantly more ill at the 7 to 10-day time-frame, and I could go south fast. Oh god.

I looked at my very ill husband. I looked at my oldest son. I asked my husband, "If we both end up in the hospital, who is going to look after our kids?" The border to Canada, where all our relatives lived, was closed. Everyone was trapped at home. The hospitals were filling up. There would be no cavalry coming. It was our eldest son's 15th birthday. That is a conversation that no child should have to hear. But we had to give him an emergency plan — just in case. 

Our doctor advised us to get a pulse oximeter. We could not leave the house. We ordered it on Amazon. Shipping was supposed to take three weeks. 

All this time, we thought my teen had escaped it. Our thoughts were, "Thank goodness. Those lucky kids, mild or nothing. Well, that's a relief!" Yeah, well, we were wrong. Again.

In the wee hours of Sunday, March 22nd, my teen started vomiting. A lot. He started coughing. A lot. We called the pediatrician. She immediately prescribed him anti-nausea meds, but we couldn't go pick them up. We were both still very sick. My business partner at the time offered to drive and get them, but she was in a high-risk group and I didn't want to expose her. 

We waited for delivery. It took hours to come. Finally, we were able to give him the meds with the hope of stemming dehydration. While the oppressive feeling of nausea left him, the actual vomiting did not stop. We tried a teaspoon of water every 15-20 minutes. He threw up. We tried waiting an hour and then started with ice chips. He threw up. The pediatrician said if it continued, we would have to go with him to the emergency room. Which one of us would go? We were still very sick and likely contagious. Finally, 24 hours into this, the vomiting stopped. Regardless, all I could think this whole time was, I did this. 

Monday was a better day. Our son could drink. He could eat. His fever abated. The rest of the week continued as is. Sunday, I woke up feeling better. So did my husband. But then, the next day, I woke up feeling sicker. My fever, after being gone for about a week, was back. My cough, which had virtually disappeared the day before, was back. This up and down patterned continued. We learned that there were good days and bad; no rhyme or reason to them. 

At the three-week mark, my husband felt better, but my teen started getting chest pains. Our pulse oximeter had amazingly arrived early. He and I measured our oxygen multiple times a day, and whenever we felt short of breath, it gave us peace of mind. We would slowly walk the perimeter of our yard for 10-20 minutes and do pulmonary exercises throughout the day to keep our lung capacity up. 

At some point during this time, I had joined a Facebook group called COVID-19 CT Survivors. People were sharing their experiences. We were learning from each other. We were learning that this didn't necessarily leave after two weeks and that there were WAY more symptoms than what was in the media. We were finding each other in the fog of the unknown.  

At 30-days sick, I asked my doctor if he saw other people sick for this amount of time. He said yes, it was taking a very long time for people to recover. Well-meaning friends and family checked in daily to ask how I was doing. I didn't know what to say. I had thought I was getting better three separate times, only to feel sick again. I finally found an article in the NY Times which shed some light on it. I would email or text them the article and said it explained the roller-coaster ride well. No one knew about long-haulers yet.

At the 5-week mark, I had a zoom call scheduled with my friends, but I had to cancel an hour or two before the call. My fever had come back. I hadn't realized it, but my husband told me it had been gone for 21 days. He had been counting, monitoring, watching and worrying, all the time putting on a brave face for me (the perpetual worrier). My main symptoms by this time were chest pain, aching hips, and aching calves (something I have never had before).  

By the end of April, my teen son and I were able to walk our yard for 20-30 minutes at a time. But my chest pains continued. My doctor was concerned that I had, at some point, developed pneumonia. There might be scarring in my lungs, or worse yet, the pulmonary embolisms that medical experts saw in many COVID patients, but I could not get an x-ray or a cardio angiogram until I tested negative. Finally, the second week of May, I had the two negative tests I needed. 

The third week of May my chest X-ray was clear; a week later, my cardio-angiogram clear. A relief but my chest pains continued. My doctor diagnosed costochondritis. Not serious — just annoying. This caused a pinched nerve causing more chest pains. September brought a round of steroids that helped me finally feel somewhat normal again. 

All this time, the support from friends, family, colleagues, and business acquaintances was humbling. People dropped off meals, gift baskets and did store runs for items like soap and shampoo. It was meaningful and helpful and appreciated in more ways than people know.

I also did not have to worry about work, as we had always been remote, and the people I work with are phenomenal; the company's continuity was in good hands. Our loyal clients were understanding and patient and took it in stride for any minor hiccups in their marketing. We kept them abreast of the situation as they did with us for anything happening (or not happening) on their end.  

People ask me if we are back to normal. As far as I know, for my two younger sons and my husband, that is mostly a yes. My youngest still talks about how he thought I was going to die when I was sick. I reassure him regularly that he needn't have worried. What else can I say?

My oldest had brain fog for a few weeks following his illness, but that thankfully cleared up relatively quickly. He says he still sometimes feels his chest is "off" after playing hockey, but he is doing well in school this year and can do all the normal things that teens can do during a pandemic.

Me, I am 99%. I can do all the things I did before. The aching calves and hips gradually decreased over the summer and the fall. I get random shivers from mid-thigh down my legs, sometimes one leg, sometimes both. It happens now and then, and I don't know the cause. My immune system still triggers faster than it used to. I get a scratchy throat and swollen glands a lot. Each time, I pop vitamin C, zinc, elderberry syrup and pray that I don't have COVID again. Each time, I wake up feeling fine and remind myself that this is my new normal. 

I will take it. Because, despite it being rough and stressful and life-changing, I consider us the lucky ones. We can still do the outdoor activities we love and eventually, once humanity is vaccinated, participate in the indoor activities we miss. But most importantly, we are all still here. And for that, I am very, very, very grateful. And as I am a proponent of people posting mini-wins in their business, I am posting this as a major win for my family and me. 

People ask if we will get the vaccine. That is a resounding YES! This virus is much more random than people realize (or maybe even want to believe), and I would rather not gamble with mine or my family's life again. 

If you read to the end of this, I thank you for taking the time to read my cathartic piece. While not a business post, I think these stories need to be shared. We still don't know the long-term effects of this virus — even for those who were asymptomatic. When we all return to whatever kind of life awaits us post-COVID, we may better understand if our co-workers, employees, bosses, vendors, and clients just don't feel that great. 

Now that I am done, I think I will head outside and turn my face to the sun, enjoying the spring since I missed it last year.